Don Juan, the dog

Growing up in between

II Don Juan, the dog

The landlord used to keep a mutt. Perhaps “keeping” was not the right word. The mutt just appeared in front of the lobby of the building every morning. The landlord would give him a bowl of leftover for breakfast, and then the mutt would disappear until the next day morning.

One day, Alexei’s mother suggested to follow the mutt and see what he was doing after breakfast.

That morning they became the stalking detectives.

The mutt first stopped by a tiny park (probably of just 8 sq meters) in the urban centre of Hong Kong. Within the bushes, came several tiny puppies and another big female mutt.

“So he was meeting his family,” the mother said to Alexei.

The two detectives continued their stalking.

Upon every traffic light, the mutt would sit down and wait for the green light to cross. He also stopped by a number of different spots, at which at least one female dog was waiting.

Occasionally, he would stop by restaurants.

One of the restaurants was an Italian restaurant, just like which in Disney’s “Lady and the Tramp”, though he didn’t bring one of his girlfriends for the fancy meal.

At the end of the day, the two detectives concluded that the mutt was the Don Juan of his kind.

However, a few months later, the mutt no longer came.

Was he dead? Had he found a new home? Or perhaps he was sick of the cheap leftovers?

Alexei could not tell.

Maybe the mutt, like every Hong Kong people, was also lost in the urban jungle.

 

 

Micro fiction with practice painting on J. S. Sargent

She raised her hand, and the world stopped for her.

The cashmere cape danced in the air.

Every thread was the melody that drove the steps.

The steps were sometimes of a lion; sometimes of a panther.

Either way the heat was eager to claw my heart out.

Her arms and fingers twisted and waved.

I retreated backward and she approached onward.

Within the rhythm, my back was forced to the wall.

She slapped me.

“We are done!”

The next day I received a phone call from the divorce attorney.

The painting was my study on the dancer in Sargent’s El paleo.

It took me 2 days to finish the study, and the dress really drove me crazy.

©Paulus of Sinae (Chan Po Lo Paul) April 2016

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Thank you for reading.

 

 

 

 

Wash the dishes!

Growing up in between

I. Wash the dishes!

Alexei Lau was born as a Hong-Kong-nese or Hongkie as the Singaporeans put it, but his parents were poor immigrants to Hong Kong from China.

As poor as they were, the whole family rented a 4-square-meter room in a big apartment in the old urban part of Hong kong. There were so many tenants in this apartment, each renting a room.

Alexei could recall there were once a group of Indian ladies who always loved to use a lot of lamb oil when cooking. And they were notorious for not washing the pots and dishes, leaving them in the sink for days until the coat of lamb oil formed a yellow crust onto the surfaces.

Alexei, a 2 year old boy back then, hated the smell of lamb. It made him nauseous. Unfortunately there was a hole at the adjacent wall of the bathroom to the kitchen, so the stench was always creeping into the bathroom, and vice versa. 

One day, while Alexei was being bathed by his mother, the stench was sagging into the air again. Suddenly Alexei jumped out of the the plastic bucket (used as a bathtub) and rushed to the room of the Indian ladies, with his mother yelling from behind. 

Alexei banged at the door. It was one of the Indian ladies who answered it. Behind her were six people, all staring at this naked 2-year-old with bubbles in his hair.

Alexei started mumbling and shouting at the poor lost people who had no idea what this little kid was doing. Alexei could no longer figure out what exactly he was talking about right now. The memory was too shattered and old. Yet the main gist he believed was just asking them to “wash the dishes”.

For a moment, the indian lady who opened the door was shocked, but then she started laughing, so were her guests. Hearing the laughters, time stopped for a moment for Alexei. Then the soapy water dripped into his eyes. While he was trying hard to blink away the soap, he was snatched by his mother under from the armpits, and carried back to the bathroom.

Years after, Alexei could finally laugh at that stupid outburst. Also Indian cuisines began to glow on him.

©Paulus of Sinae (Chan Po Lo Paul) April 2016

P.S. Not to my expectation, I found it is more difficult to paint the naan than the curry. If you find that strangely shaped bread confusing, just imagine it as a dough. 🙂

Sinking into the sky

The sky is always a mystery to me. Why do I get to stay in the sea? I have seen creatures floating above the air. They stretch out their flippers and beat. I stretched out mine and beat them relentlessly. Nothing ever happened. I have also seen lands floating on the surface. These lands never extend to the bottom of the sea. They just float and they are quite noisy sometimes. Some of them are giant, some of them can even be smaller than me. My kin told me to stay clear of them. There are vile creatures on these lands.

“Dive when you see the floating lands. They will catch you. They will pierce you and drag you out of the ocean.”

Yet I never thought that day would come to me.

My blood scatters into the water. Red turns from crimson into a cloud of dark smoke sinking into the bottomless ocean.

Then they start to drag. It doesn’t feel like I am ascending out of the water, rather I am sinking. Fear and pain drags my heart down as I am being lifted up. The abyss is behind me, where the sun shines and a sharp hook sparkles.

My tail is out of the water now. My eyes stare into the bottomless ocean. The dark purple bottom is my refuge. What’s down is my heaven and the hell is above me. And I keep sinking into the hell.

They caught me. Why? Probably for the same reason I keep catching the squids. As my mouth crushed their slippery bodies, their pale, redless blood squeezed into my throat. Did I moan for them? Why should I? I feel good when I eat them.

The mild warmth of the sun hits my eyes. The orange coloured sky hangs above my tail. I was out of the water.

Finally, I sink into the sky

.

The painter and his bride

The painter and his girlfriend were at the beach.

“I love you,” the painter said, holding a paint brush in his hand, pressing it upon the canvas.

“Why?” the girl asked with a sly smile. The radiance of the sunset swept on her blushed cheek.

“Your breasts. They give me comfort. When I lay on them, they feel like this paint,” his finger dipped into the paint on the palette, gently rubbing the smear. “Soft… Wet… And… So gentle.”

The girl giggled, “Why don’t you marry my breasts then?”

A week later, a wedding was held.

Before the minister were the painter and his painting:

The ember of the Firebird

 

 

They say…

The feather of Ziz the Firebird is the source of warmth and happiness.

It turns into cinder and burns forever.

Each feather will grant you the wish that have been skittering in your mind for years,

As long as you have the craft to sketch with the ash…

To be continued in the upcoming book

My new thriller fantasy novella

The new thriller novella will be out within two weeks. And it will be free for the first month! (After that it will ONLY be $0.99. Pay up you freeloaders… LOL)

He wakes up to find all his memories lost. He scans the room. Every detail seeps into his mind, recalling  distant strands of event embedded within the deepest consciousness of his.  He can remember he is the Archmage of the mage academy.  Then within a blink, he finds himself in the hall of the academy talking to his colleagues.
For the next few days, he starts to have various blackouts. And he begins to have nightmares every night. What has happened to him? He tries to find out, but the truth can be deadly, in the sense it does not only take his life, but also his subjectivity….

The first night in the Archmage’s Quaters (A short dark fantasy story)

The first night

“Daria!”

I woke up to find myself soaked in sweat.

Daria? Who?

I searched in my mind, my consciousness, for any trace of who Daria was. Yet it was void, nothing. I lifted up my hands: they were trembling, and so was my heart. Must be a dream, just a nightmare…

Nightmare, nightmare… I tried to calm myself down, but my heart kept pounding. My linen shirt was glued on to my skin and I could smell the sweat transpiring from my body, the smell of ammonia. I realized I could not remember a single detail of the nightmare, not a sound, not an image.

I stretched out my palm. A spark of flame came out of thin air. It was floating just above my hand, nearly touching my skin. I could feel the warmth burning in the bluish hue, but it did not scorch. There was no pain at all.

How did I do that?

I turned to my right and saw a white slab of stone. It was a white marble desk, on which I saw a small candle on a holder. I lit it up and noticed a robe by the chair. There was a symbol of two eagles on the hood.

No! It was a twin-headed griffon. Dizziness hammered my head. I tried to get up, but I felt so disoriented that I nearly collapsed on to the desk.

Twin-headed griffon… Where have I seen that?

I kept searching for images in my head. Many traces of memories were mingled together. The imagery faded in and out quickly. All of that sudden I recalled a faint image of the emblem carved into a bronze plate. No… Not carved into… Was it a seal?

I turned my head to the wall facing the bed. I seemed to have remembered something. I walked towards the wall with the candle holder in my right hand. My thumb pressed hard on the handle of the holder. A bronze plaque on the wall gradually revealed itself in the dim light. It was a relief.

My fingers touched the crest lightly. The claw of the griffon reflected a sense of fierceness by the orange candle flame. A splitting pain shot through my head. I rubbed my hand on my forehead. I nearly fell out of balance. Then I saw the words beneath the emblem:

“For the Arch-mage of the Oblast Magi Academy, Jon Whitman.”

Yes! I am Jon Whitman, the Arch-mage of the academy. I am the head of the most prestigious academy in the Alfr Imperium. How could I forget that! I am the headmaster of this school. I placed the candle holder back on the desk and noticed a few pieces of paper lying on the desk. The words were faint in the dangling candle flame:

10^th Moonshine, 1990

The first day after the assimilation. I feel disoriented at first, but soon my body adapts to the changes. My mana has increased significantly and I am able to summon shades too. It seems some of the abilities have been transferred to me. This is so exciting. Perhaps there are even more to discover.

Are these my words? Yet I could not remember myself writing them… It had to be the fatigue. A headmaster’s job was not easy.

Job… Something in my mind troubled me again.

I recalled there would be an expedition team returning tomorrow. I would have to read and write reports, and manage all the artifacts that had been recovered.

I need sleep to deal with these administrative bullshits.

I blew off the candle and went to bed.

“Jon? Jon!”

A woman’s voice woke me up. I found myself standing in the grand hall. People were unloading crates of artifacts from carts and wagons. Beside me was Yulia Dmitrieva, the head of the Archaeology Department.

What? I remember I was still in bed…

“Jon! Are you here?”

Her voice rang me back to the reality. Maybe I am too tired. “I am sorry.” I replied, Scratching my head, “So where were we?”

“We were talking about the rune stones recovered in the Kievan Crypt. They are ancient, perhaps older than the 2^nd millennium,” she paused, looking at me. Her eyes were full of excitements. “I need more people to decode these artifacts.”

I smiled and replied in my jesting tone, “Sure, we have the money! Just hire more research associates.” I looked at her wrinkled face. Her grey long hair was also wrinkled, dry as hay. Life had not been nice to her.

“I take that as a ‘yes’.” Yulia smiled. She knew I never joked about work. “By the way, Jon, I know being a human here isn’t easy.” She was referring to my race. I am a human among them — the elves; though to me, the difference is simply “look at the ears”.

“Don’t worry,” I assured her, “I can handle myself.”

“Ok.. It just seems that you are very stressed. It seems that you were not focused enough when we were talking. Well anyway, “She smiled and turned away from me, “Daria!”

That name swept down my spine. I saw a young lady in white robe approaching. She was holding a box of rune stones. “Daria, do you have the rune stone for Prof Whitman?” Yulia asked.

“You mean the rune stone about the soul vessels?” She tried to hold the box on one hand, while slipping her other hand into her pocket, to search for something. The box started to tilt forward. I rushed to catch it. Her dark long hair brushed on my face. Our hands touched. She withdrew her hand under the box immediately. The heavy box dragged me down. I nearly fell.

“Oh I am so sorry!” she covered her mouth with her hands. I could hear fear in her voice.

“No problem!” I smiled and put the boxes on the ground.

“Careful! Ever do that again and you will never see this academy, AGAIN!” Yulia stared at the girl. She looked like as if she wanted to kill her. Daria looked down quietly.

“Easy!” I said with a smile. “I am sure she will be more careful next time.”

“Just give Prof Whitman the rune stone and be off with your work.”

Daria walked towards me and handed me a piece of polished pebble. There were very peculiar characters carved on the surface. The characters were like symbols, not alphabets. I had not seen this kind of language before.

“Have you seen Samuel today, Prof Whitman?” Daria asked in a low voice.

“No… Who is Samuel?”

“Samuel Watson, your research assistant.” she seemed shocked. I shook my head and she pressed on, “The only other human in this academy?”

“Yeah that young boy,” Yulia barged in, “I saw you with him before the expedition and you two were quite close. You told me he was probably the best student you have ever had.”

“I am sorry I have no idea, but I will look into it. I have been forgetting things lately,” I apologized.

Daria gave me this suspicious look and walked away. When she bent and tried to lift up the box, I heard Yulia yelled again, “Leave it there! I don’t want to risk it. JUST go!” And Daria hurried away.

Yulia sighed and said, “If she wasn’t THIS good with the rune translation,” she raised her hand and gently connected her thumb and her forefinger, “I would simply fire her, immediately!” Then she grabbed the box and turned away from me.

“Wait! What’s this stone for?”

“You asked for that before I left for the expedition—“ she frowned, “Are you sure you are alright?”

“Yes! Yes!” My attention was fully on the runic inscriptions. What’s its use?

As if she could read my mind, she said, “It’s a rune stone that can trap souls. But of course without the proper ritual and the right spell, the stone cannot be activated.”

“I see…” I felt a blow to my head. My ears were inflated with echoes. My mind was overwhelmed with dizziness and disorientation; and there was this fear, a kind of fear bubbled from within, which I could not put words to it.

Yulia patted on my shoulder. “Hey! You should go to the doctor. Go to see Dr Rossolimo.”

I realized I was kneeling on the ground. “I will. I will…” I was aware that I was panting heavily. I felt I needed medical attention.

“Anyway I need to go,” she put the box on her shoulder. “I need to take care of these babies,” she breathed in gently and then pointed her finger at me, “Remember! Go to see Dr Rossolimo.”

I nodded and watched her walk away. Then I turned my gaze at the stone. My heart trembled as the runes shone under the sunlight.

Then suddenly a whisper hissed in my mind:

The eye!

Mummy, do you love me?

I banged the door behind me. There were noises in the house, arguments, from the kitchen. The door to the kitchen was closed. Someone yelled. A woman’s voice. And soon it was replaced by the sound bashing and hitting. Within the darkness, I waited, in the sitting room. But through the slits of the door, light of the kitchen reached out to the dark. Occasionally the light was blocked by the shadows. It looked like an old film reel spinning in the cinema. The fluidity of the motion picture was interrupted from time to time.

After a while, silence took over and I heard the bang of a door. Cautiously I stepped towards the kitchen door, and turned the knob. The door was pushed opened gradually. I saw mother sitting on the floor. Her nose was bleeding.

“Go and do your homework,” she said coldly.

“Did dad-“

She slapped me. “Go and do your homework!”

And I retreated to my room upstairs. It was kind of a routine to me and my mother. She got beaten up by my dad, while I got to see or hear she getting beaten up. She never complained it in front of me. In fact we did not talk much. Just the day before I told her I wanted to have spaghetti. She did not say a word, but walked into the kitchen quietly and started boiling a pot of water over the stove.

My mother was a very good cook. I sucked the pasta in. The moisture of the olive oil and the fragrance of the tomato sauce wipped on my lips. They always carved a delicious memory into my brain. I smiled to my mother, ” Yummy!” But her face was emotionless, and her eyes were red and her black eye hung ghastly under the dim light. I continued chewing on my meal. I knew it was her way to show me love. How could she not love me, if she made all these lovely food for me?

Sometimes I would stay in the youth centre to do my homework. With all the noises, I could not concentrate. And I really did not want to see my dad. There was also this lovely lady there at the centre always giving sweets to me. Of course I never said a word about mum getting hit. What if they separate me and my mother apart? I had some friends who ended up in foster homes. No I could not leave my mother. But still I told that lady a lot about my mother, especially how brilliantly she cooked. “You should show your mother you love her too,” the lady said, “you should do something for her. Something that can make her happy.”

Yes! That was good advice! I should do something for her. That evening I was pondering on what to do for my mum while I was walking back home. I heard arguments and yelling again at the doorstep. I walked into the house and saw dad pulling on my mother’s hair.

He roared at mother. His spits were sprayed on my mother’s face. My mother clenched her teeth. It seemed they had not noticed me. I realized there was a pistol on the side table. “I should do something for her, and make her happy.”

“Let mother go!” My trembling hands pointed the gun at my dad. I had loaded the gun. Information about how to shoot a gun isn’t hard to find on the internet.

“Oh so you have balls now? Shoot! You piece of shi-“

The sound of the shot resonated with the spark. The shock bursted through the room. The recoil pushed me backward. Dad collapsed to the ground.

There was silence for a short while. Mum stared at the body of dad and suddenly she turned to me. She threw me on to the ground. My shoulder was hit hard. I felt as if the bone had been crushed.

“Why did you do that?” She asked in a calm voice..

“Because I love you, mother,” I wailed.

“Love me?” Her laughter turned into a hoarse roar. “I never love you! I can always have another son. You are just another meat popped out of my virgina!”

I didn’t cry. I didn’t yelled. The cold steel simply rested motionless in my palm.

The Turtle in the Glass tank

One day, while I was playing in the sand dune with my friends, I caught a little lizard. Carefully I put the creature inside a glass flask, and I tied a metal wire to the lid, as a handle. And I went back home happily, humming on my favourite tune.

When I got home, Jim was already there. He was a traveling merchant who occasionally visit our village in the Dune and he stayed in our house every time. I was liked him very much, as every time when he visited, he brought very strange toys and stories he heard in his travel.

Mum saw me with my new found pet. She smiled but said, “Let the poor creature go! It deserves to be in the nature.”

I went to the front door unwillingly, opened the lid, and the creature slipped away quickly. Then I walked back to the living room with a long face.

“Animals do not like to be held captive, John.” Mum said to me.

Jim came from behind and patted on my shoulder.

“Well, that might not be true. Let me tell you a story about a captured turtle.”

He took out that small hourglass out again and put it on the table. The sand began to flow.

“Not too long time ago, there was this kingdom named Akkad, in which there was a very intelligent and brave prince. He conquered many lands with his valour and wit. He built massive machineries that could breathe fire on his enemies, while he himself always rode at the front line, pushing his enemies backwards. Very soon, he was able to expand his kingdom towards the edge of the western land.

“When he was returning from his final victorious conquest in the western land, he stepped on something hard in the Dune. He moved away his boot and found this turtle shell. He picked up the shell and saw those tiny head and legs hiding under it. Turtle was a symbol of prosperity in the kingdom of Akkad, and he found this little creature so cute that he immediately declared this turtle as the royal pet.

“While back in the palace, he put the turtle in a glass tank facing his royal bed in his chamber. On the wall there hang a map of the kingdom. ‘Ah! I need to revise my territory again now.’ He smiled to himself.

“’A swallow flew by and caught sight of this new addition to the royal family. She landed at the window and asked, ‘Oh hello my friend! Tell me how you ended up here?’

“The turtle replied with an irritated tone, ‘I was sunbathing at the nicest spot of the dune, but then this human came and stepped on me. He took me here and put me in this tank. Do you know what I will become of?’

“’No worry my friend. I think the human wants to keep you as a pet.’

“’A pet?’ The turtle seemed puzzled.

“’Yes. Humans love to keep animals as pets. Some of the pets, like dogs, are trained to hunt or perform other services for the humans.’

“’What? What service can I provide for the humans?’ the turtle grumbled.

“’Do you know this box?’ The swallow pecked the glassy tank. ‘This is a display box. Humans put what they want to look at within this box.’

“’So I am just here to be looked at? What nonsense is that?’

“’Yes apparently, the humans love to collect different objects and animals to decorate their “nests”. You should be grateful they didn’t kill you and turn you into a specimen.’

“What the swallow said had clearly upset the turtle. The turtle was so frightened that he retreated and held his limbs and head back into his shell.

“’I am sorry!’ begged the swallow. ‘I was just joking. If they wanted you to be a specimen, you would be mounted on the wall by now.’ The swallow was pointing its beak to the wall with the map of the kingdom.

“’Please take me away! Oh you are too small to lift me up. Don’t you have some bigger friends, like eagle?’ The turtle was begging heartily.

“The swallow rolled its black pearly eyes angrily at the turtle, ‘do you think I could still come back, when I go and get you an eagle? I can only be the eagle’s food, not friend. Actually you should be glad, now you don’t need to go out to find food, nor do you need to hide from the predators. It is actually quite cosy here. Don’t you think?’

“What I want is freedom! I don’t need food or shelter! I don’t want to be observed behind this glassy box!’ the turtle started to yell grumpily.

“’Oh don’t be like that! You cannot accomplish anything by losing your temper.’

“’What should I do then?’ asked the turtle impatiently.

“’Just relax. You will leave this place one day. If you are too lonely, I can stay with you for these few days, but I have to leave for the south very soon. My husband is waiting there for me.’

“And the swallow stayed with the turtle for a few days. Time flew fast. It was time for the swallow to part, but the turtle begged her to stay.

“’I promise I will come back to you next year. If I cannot come back, I will ask my children to come to see you.’ So the swallow beat her wings and soared to the desert sun. The turtle was left alone again.

“Time flew fast again. Many sunrises, many sunsets, and twenty moon phases had passed. There was no sign of the swallow. The turtle could only gaze at the moonlit every night, hoping for his friend to come.

“One night while everyone was deeply asleep, there was a great explosion within the palace. Everyone was shocked. One big rock from the ceiling fell down. It crushed by the side of the glass tank, nearly hitting the turtle. Then there was this earth cracking noise from the corridor. A group of soldiers marched into the prince’s chamber. The one leading the army was the first general to the prince.

“The turtle saw the prince being taken away. It was treason. Later the first general became the King of Akkad, and the turtle was moved to the throne room.

“’Now we need a bigger tank for you. Don’t we?’ The new King patted the turtle on the shell. The turtle had grown in size. His scales got bigger and pointier. The new King placed a bigger glass tank behind his throne and moved the turtle there.

“It took three months for all the things to settle down. And finally the turtle could be free from all the noises from the renovations. Then the turtle noticed a bird busy flying around the palace. It seemed the bird was looking for something.

“’What are you looking for, little birdie? If you want some food, the kitchen is downstairs.”

“The bird approached the turtle. Now the turtle could see it clearer. It was the swallow! The turtle could not help suppress his excitements. He stomped the floor.

“’Mrs Swallow, I have been waiting for you so long!’ said the turtle sincerely.

“’I am sorry do I know you?’ The swallow’s words broke the turtle’s heart.

“’How could you forget me? You promised me you would be back!’

“’Oh you are Mr Turtle?’ the swallow snapped. ‘No, I am not the same swallow you saw two years ago. I am her daughter.’

“’What happened to Mrs Swallow?’ the turtle exclaimed.

“’She died. I am afraid, we swallows do not live as long as you turtles do,’ said the swallow drily, “I was told you were in the royal chamber.’

“’I was! I was!’ said the turtle nervously, ‘I nearly died in a fight!’ The turtle told the sparrow about the treason and how he was moved to the throne room.

“’Please help me! I need to be away from this violent place!’ the turtle begged hysterically.

“’I am so sorry but there is nothing I can help,’ the sparrow shook her head, ‘perhaps you should be more happy. You see you are at the throne room. The new King likes you. I think he will treat you well. Do you know how hard it is to find a shelter with warmth and food outside?’

“The turtle knew it was useless to argue with the sparrow. Like mother, like daughter. Instead he asked the sparrow to stay with him.

“’I am sorry but I have to be back to the south soon. My boyfriend is waiting for me,’ the sparrow larked, ‘You know he has the shiniest black feathers that shimmer under the sun. Oh and that wavy feather at the top of his head too!’ The sparrow was quite absorbed into her own imagination, but the turtle continued to beg. Finally the sparrow gave in, ‘Fine! I guess I can stay for a few days. This palace seems quite comfortable.’

“And the sparrow stayed with the turtle for a few days and said, “Sorry but I really need to leave now.” But she also added, “This is truly a nice place. Maybe I won’t need to escape to the south next year. I am sure these thick walls will keep my feathers warm in winter.’ And the turtle saw her flew away.

“Soon the temperature began to drop, with the days becoming shorter while the nights longer. Then after countless moonless winter nights, spring came. And when the turtle lost count of the sunsets, spring was replaced by summer, autumn and another winter.

“After many years, a little swallow came to the palace. His wings were still small and weak. He could not fly for a long time. He landed on the top of a giant rock in the garden.

“’Good day, little swallow,’ a deep voice sounded within the rock. The swallow was shocked and fell to the ground.

“’Oh I am sorry. Did I scare you?’ Gradually a grey shadow emerged from the cleft of the rock. The swallow blinked hard for a few times. He realized he landed on the shell of the turtle.

“’Are you the great turtle imprisoned in the palace?’ the little swallow asked.

“’Oh yes I am. Are you the grandchildren of Miss Swallow?”

“’No, that was my great-great-grandmother. She told us of a cosy palace with a giant turtle in a glass tank, where we could escape from the cold of the winter. My wings are too weak to fly to the south, so I want to stay here for this winter.’

“’Oh I am afraid you have chosen a wrong time to come,’ said the turtle in a long sad tone. ‘After your great-great-grandmother left, the Akkad kingdom was attacked by another kingdom, Urak. After countless years of fight, Urak conquered Akkad. I could still remember the day when the pillars of the palace fell. I hid myself under my hard shell. My glass tank was crushed. People hurried to and fro. I am not certain they were fighting or escaping. Anyway, the kingdom fell and a new king came. He found me too massive to be put anywhere inside the palace, so I was moved to the garden.’

“’I think the garden may be a better place than the inside. At least you get to see the sky,’ the little swallow commented.

“’To me it’s the same everywhere. I think you should leave now. Urak is at war with another kingdom, Hakeim now. Hakeim’s army is right at the doorsteps of the palace this moment. This kingdom will be gone soon again.’

“’Really?’ the swallow sounded worried, ‘maybe this time Urak will win?’

“’No, the king of Urak is too arrogant and stupid. This place will be another crumbling ruin again,’ the turtle sounded quite certain.

“’I see. Okay I will leave. Why don’t you come with me? You are out of the glass tank now. You can easily leave this garden.’

“’Ha!’ the turtle laughed in his old cracking voice, ‘no I am too old to be moving again, and I don’t want to leave anymore. When I was in the glass tank, I always thought I was imprisoned, being observed by the humans; but now I realize I actually observed the humans through the glass wall. I have seen how foolish they are, to be fighting among themselves, to be obsessed with power and glory. It is actually quite a show. I enjoy watching them, while they keep feeding me. It’s a bargain, don’t you think so?’”

Jim stopped talking and smiled to me. I did not say anything but put the glass flask on the table. And Jim started to gulp down his beer while slipping his hourglass back in his pocket.

©Paulus of Sinae 2013